Broken Strings of Four Seasons
by greyslostwho
Summary: Mark POV. Angsty Maddison, because that's what I do best. Through four seasons. Written wwwed in the Greys exchange 2009. High T rating.
1. Winter

_Winter_  
In the first memory that actually means something, I am eight years old, and it is snowing. I only know that because I can watch it out of my window, it's too busy in my house for me to get outside, for anyone to even notice the flakes of snow forming the carpet of white on the grey slabs outside. My mother's shouting, screaming, even, at Mick, the man who's been sleeping in her bed for six months and on the couch for two more. He's standing too close to her; something makes me uncomfortable about the way his fists are clenched by his sides. I know how this will end. Even at my age, I've seen the age old dance time and again. He'll hit her, she'll cry, he'll storm off. Maybe he'll be back for another round, maybe not. But sure enough, soon enough, there'll be another variation on the same man, the same, angry, drinking, not-my-dad man, sleeping in my mother's bed.

I'm humming something, the theme tune to a cartoon, maybe, and I'm just about able to shut the noise out. I stopped worrying about my mother getting hurt a while ago; I'd seen her throw a punch back too many times. It is easier to watch the snowflakes falling and imagine what they would feel like grazing my skin, crunching in my hands and aimed at someone else. Someone nameless, someone…

They come rounding the corner, the three of them, laughing. Looking back, I wonder how they stumbled into a neighbourhood like mine on that day but I guess… I guess their supervision was less than satisfactory. The tall boy, about fourteen, and the blonde girl he has his arm around, strolling behind them, sharing a kiss at every stolen moment. The two of them, well, I can immediately tell they are different. The boy's coat looks like something off one of the old detective dramas my grandmother used to watch, long and straight with a number-six domino pattern of buttons on the front. He has wavy dark hair flecked with tiny snowflakes, and a thousand watt smile I cam only guess is brought on by the girl skipping in front of him.

She's like nothing I've ever seen before, something too bright to be in a place like this. Her skin is almost as white as the snow, her hair a stark red in contrast, curling over her shoulders, wreathing her in richness. She seems out of place from the first glance I give her, her chocolate brown button down coat slightly too long, her cream wool scarf blowing across her face in the wind as she tosses snow at the boy, eyes lighting up with laughter as she does so. It's then that she sees me. Her eyes meet mine through the window, and she stops short, mouth moving, saying something to the boy, but I can't hear her. I can't understand myself, how I want to look away, how I wish she hadn't seen me here, but I can't. Her eyes are the blue of the sky in the morning, and they stare right at me, unabashed, solemn. She moves then, gestures between them and then to my front door. It takes a moment for me to realise she's inviting me out there to come and play.

It only takes another moment for the older boy to catch up with her, the girl still twined around his waist. I'm already shrugging on my anorak, kicking my feet into the old pair of sneakers discarded by the side of the couch. I run out of the chipped front door, because every second lost was a second my mother could call me in to wash the dishes, or something else, and so I run, the door slamming loudly behind me. The snow crunches beneath my feet, and the air's warmer than I thought it would be… this snow won't last long. The girl grins at me wickedly; an expression that hardly fits her features, and before I can even think she's scooped up a handful of snow and aimed it.

It hits me on the shoulder, and I can't help the laugh that bubbles up inside me. In an instant, I'm reciprocating, this time hitting the boy on the side of the head, the snow colder in my fingers than I'd expected. They're both laughing, and the older boy seems to have relaxed a little and returned his attention to his girlfriend. Snow flies in all directions, down my back, slipping over warm skin, melting a path downwards, in my eyes, stinging for only a few seconds, in her hair, melting into water, turning the red a few shades into brown with the weight of it. I learn that her name is Addison, his name is Derek. The older boy is her brother, Archer. They don't live on this estate… they'd gone out to play in the snow and taken a wrong turning.

I think that day was the first day I ever learnt anything about love, friendship, and acceptance. They both hug me goodbye when Archer tells them they have to leave, they both turn to wave as they walk away down the street. I sneak back in through the back door, rubbing my hands together, barely noticing they've turned blue, a result of gripping snow in un-gloved hands. There's no sign of my mother or Mick as I creep upstairs, no sign they even noticed I was gone. I rub my hands together under a tap for a while to keep them warm, thinking solemnly in my head that I'll never see either of them again.

As it was, the next summer is the summer my mother leaves me, and I am sent to live with my rich grandfather who has no idea how to raise a child. The one thing he does for me, however, is pay the fees to a private school, on the nicest nearby estate. I happen to be in Derek's class, and that's the beginning of everything.


	2. Summer

_Summer_  
The first time I realise I am in love with Addison, we are both nineteen. It's summer, and for the third year in a row a big group of us are staying for a week in the Shepherd family's condo in South Carolina. Derek, Addison and I, and Naomi, Weiss, Sam, Savvy, and Archer. It's idyllic, just for a week every summer, where we shut out the world, and run, half dressed through the fields, dive into lakes when we can't gauge the depth, dance to Sam's crackling radio until the early hours of the morning.

It's become something of a tradition, ever since Derek's mother decided we were old enough to take care of ourselves. The sun is hot and yellow and the grass is always brown and dry, and the water is warm and slightly murky, but between us, just for seven days, we shut everything out and we laugh.

We're sat around the camp fire, tonight. Things are different this year. Savvy's curled up with Archer's arms around her in the corner – the expression on Weiss' face indicates his discomfort. Naomi and Sam are dancing around each other with their eyes, darting glances, brushing fingers. Derek's sat with Weiss, glaring at the ground. I'd never known Derek and Addison to fight before, but there is something wrong there tonight. They aren't meeting each other's eyes and Addison is pacing, holding the vodka and… hell, she'd stopped diluting it hours ago. I should probably ask Derek about it, get it out of him while the alcohol is still taking its toll, but I can't bring myself to. Even staggering beside the fire, her hair a mess, her eyes bloodshot, she's entrancing. And when she looks at me and crooks her finger, nodding towards the path down to the lake, I don't even look at Derek. I follow. I tell myself that I'm going to sort this out between them, that tomorrow, thanks to my intervention, they'll be Derek-and-Addison again, as always, and I'll just be Mark. But somehow I know this is different. I follow her regardless, knowing Derek trusts me with her.

Knowing he shouldn't.

She doesn't stop until we reach the banks of the lake, and by the time I catch her she's already started crying. I know it's the alcohol, I know it's not my business, but I put my arms around her gently, testing, and hold her close. It's not like any other hug we've ever had, because she leans into me like she knows she shouldn't, and again, it's the alcohol again, but there's something different in her eyes tonight, behind the tears. Something reckless and wild, and I can't help but be drawn in… I've had a few too many beers myself.

She's laughing, suddenly, the direct polar opposite, and pulling away to hold my hands.  
"Let's swim, Mark." She whispers. I know I shouldn't, but as she tears off her dress, discarding it beside her and standing in front of me in nothing but her underwear I realise I've long gone beyond the point where I can say no to her. I've known her eleven years, and I'm pretty sure, in that second, that I've been in love with her for at least ten of those, although I've never even admitted it to myself.

So when she dives in, I dive in after her.

The fact that neither of us can feel the chill of the water should highlight how drunk we are, but I can feel the warmth of her body pressed against me, Her legs beginning to tangle with mine, and the water reaches my shoulders, so I'm pretty sure I'm holding her up… she's tall, but not that tall. And her mouth is close to mine, too close to mine, and somewhere in the back of my mind I think that if Derek was to see us now, everything would be over, everything would be ruined, because surely I couldn't be feeling this much without there being some outward sign.

Derek. With a sigh, I realise I am not just her friend, but his as well.  
"Addie…" I breathe, and my own voice sounds foreign to my ears, "Addie, what's up with you and Derek…"  
Everything seems to take that much longer to sink in, but she smiles slowly, and presses a long white finger to my lips.  
"Let's not talk about him." She whispers, and then transfers her hand to my shoulder, pulling her face even closer. "Tonight, just tonight, just us…" I can feel her breath on my face, and although it stinks of alcohol, it's intoxicating, suffocating, but it's Addison, so all of that's good.

I can't let her get any closer, I just can't, but I do anyway and all of a sudden her lips are on mine. I'm painfully aware of every inch of her skin against every inch of mine, the fact that we're least half a mile away from the rest of them, and none of them are in a state to remember we're even gone.

Not to mention neither of us are in a state to remember tonight.

When her lips touch mine, it's different, and always will feel like that. New, unusual, unexpected. My life hasn't taken the best turn these past few years after my grandfather died, and there's been girls. Too many girls. But Addison, and here and now… it's like everything is starting again. Everything is new and strange with her… I'm awkward again, innocent, and my whole body is screaming out for more.

I didn't know how I managed to get us safely back on the bank, or how I would remember forever afterwards how we made love in the soft grass, bodies soaked in river water, when I would always be wishing I could forget. I didn't know then how I would wake the next morning without a trace of clothing, and without anyone beside me.

How I would walk back up to the condo and see her eating breakfast on the veranda with the others, one of Derek's arms draping around her shoulders, back to the old order of things. How that would set the scene for everything to follow.

And right there, I know I love her.


	3. Spring

_Spring_  
I don't do anything to hurt Derek again until eleven years after they're married. He shouldn't dare to be so neglectful, so late home, but he is, as always. I wait around, telling myself I'm looking out for him, clearing up Derek's mess, when in reality I'm on completely the other side of this rift. I'm… I would say I'm grateful for it, but that time has passed.

I've known for a long time that I'll never be with her. The guy I am now… he's not the guy that mopes over that fact for long. Being… being her best friend as much as I'm his best friend, being the one that's there for her when he's working late, when there's another neurosurgery convention or another ground-breaking surgery – that's normally enough. It's not like I think I would have been a better husband for her. I can't seem to keep faithful to any girls, but sometimes, when I've had a few too many to drink, when I walk through the snow or by a river or see a flash of red hair, I think that maybe I'm who I am because I'm who she's made me.

We never talk about that night by the river in South Carolina, never have. Not even the day after. It became a night of beautiful taboo, and I think she tries to pretend she doesn't remember, still. But I know her well enough to see straight through that one, at least, but if she wants to hide it away, I hide it away. She has that effect on me. I never thought I'd do anything for a person, but I would for her. Without even blinking.

That's why now, when she's looking up at me with those big blue eyes and crying something softly – it's tears she's cried to me before, I can no longer distinguish – and standing too fucking close all over again, that I lean down to kiss her. Because I know it's what she wants.

It's frenzied as we stagger through towards her bedroom, but in the last minute she stops us, pushing back a little, stepping away from our path towards her bed.  
She shakes her head at me, almost imperceptibly. "That's Derek's bed." She whispers, like refusing to commit adultery in her husband's bed made it any better. We settle on the floor in the end, like the whores we both are, and my limbs ache for days afterwards, and I wish the dull pain would go away, believing it to be a rerun of the night beside the lake – something never spoken of again.

So when she turns up a week later, when Derek yet again forgets that she's offered to cook for him, I make my excuses to the potential date I have that night and invite her into my apartment.

We don't make it to my bed first, either.

Something shifts, after that. In the moments where Derek's name isn't mentioned, we're almost like a real couple. We walk through Central Park, we go out for dinner, we make love anywhere and everywhere in my apartment, we wake up side by side… but only when he's away. I buy her things… nothing too fancy, nothing that will catch Derek's eye, but shirts, skirts, even the odd pair of shoes… he won't notice. He is used to her piles and piles of designer clothing simply increasing. I sit with her resting between my legs as she studies for another fellowship, another paper in neonatal medicine, and she visits me, carrying Starbucks when she knows I have a busy day at the clinic I work part time at, and she smiles at me, and with a toss of her red hair I know we're on for tonight, too.

But time flies, so fast. My grandmother always said when you're having fun, and I guess that's an understatement. But Addison and I, we always know we have an expiry date.

And as it is, we don't make it to summer before Derek stumbles in on us in bed.


	4. Autumn

_Autumn_  
Lexie has done everything she should have done, I couldn't ask for more. There's a turkey roasting in the oven and the kids are pacified, baking cookies with Aunt Izzie. Meredith, Derek, Cristina and Owen are lounging on the sofa, satisfied that their little ones are being taken care of in the kitchen, and Alex is bouncing their bonny little baby son, George, on his knee. Callie has the emergency shift at the hospital, but she's promised she and Arizona will at least find their way in for the leftovers. But although I've known that she's been coming for weeks, I'm still not prepared when Carrie, my seven-year-old, answers the door and doesn't recognise the family standing there. I walk into the hall, lifting Tyler, my son onto my hip as I go, but when I see her standing there I stop short.

She looks the same as ever, and although she's aged in the years since I last saw her, it's definitely gracefully. There are only a few lines of silver in her vibrant red hair, and she when she smiles, ever so honestly, at me, there are a few lines around her eyes. The man she's with, smiling also, reaches out to shake my hand, and for a moment it's Derek in front of me the day he told me he was going to propose. But that day is too many years ago now, and instantly the memory fades.

"Noah, this is Mark. Mark, this is Noah, my fiancée."  
He looks nice enough, but I can't meet his eyes. The little boy clinging to Addison's legs with ebony skin is obviously not her own, but the look on her face when she glances down at him tells me he might as well be. There's a pang as I remember her only chance to have a baby… and how she'd thrown it away. I'm struggling for something to say when Meredith appears in the doorway behind me and ushers them in, hugging Addison slightly awkwardly as she does. I wonder what the look on Derek's face will be when he sees her after all this time, but I don't get to see. Tyler is fisting my shirt, and I can hear Lexie calling from the kitchen. I walk through, and seeing her standing at the stove, one of her hands half a metre deep in a turkey should make me feel better.

I married her less than a year ago, and I've been happy… it's not that. But seeing Addison standing there in front of me like that, arm in arm with some man who hasn't known her half the time I have, with a child between her legs… that changes everything. A life I never really could have had but I could have wished for all the same flashes before my eyes, and I have to swallow, making Lexie frown.

"You all right?" she asks, but there's still a smile in her voice. I instantly feel guilty, wondering what I ever did to deserve her, this perfect, pretty, loving, intelligent woman, and wonderful mother, who I can't even love as much as I should. I smile at her, and nod, and slide my arms around her waist, kissing the back of her head, thinking if I can breathe in her smell long enough, I'll be able to convince myself I'm in the right place, with the right woman.

I feel the muscles taut in her back relax, and she turns in my arms, fixing her lips to mine. I deepen the kiss slowly, forcing red hair and blue eyes out of my mind.

I hear a throat clearing, and Lexie and I break apart. Of course it's her standing there in the kitchen doorway, one of her eyebrows slightly raised. I have to swallow, but thankfully Lexie has averted her gaze, is back to the stove. She stares at me for a long moment, and then, when she speaks, I have to take a step away from my wife.

"We're out of beers." She says softly, and I nod, almost instantly.  
"I'll just go out and get some." I get a nod from Lexie, but she doesn't even turn her head.  
Addison shakes her head. "You've had too much to drink to drive, Mark. I'll drive you."  
I want to say no, I should say no, but I can't.

We climb into her car minutes later, and she puts it into gear, silently.  
"I haven't seen you in too long, Mark." She mutters, as she pulls out of my driveway. I have nothing to say to that, so I simply nod.  
"You're happy, though?" she probes gently, and I can't help the sigh from escaping.  
"Happy enough." It doesn't even sound true to me, so I feel the need to follow it up. "Noah, he… seems nice."  
She laughs a little. "Yeah… he's been great with Finn… we met when he was still married though."  
I don't say anything, just realise that this is some sort of sorry turnaround. She glances at me briefly, taking her eyes off the road.  
"For what it's worth, Mark, I like Lexie."  
Again, what is there to say to that? I try and force a smile, but suddenly my face feels heavy. We pull into the parking lot of the off-licence, and I wordlessly go in and buy the beers. As I walk out to the car again I can feel my heart racing, and for a while I'm the teenage boy I once was, realising I was in love with her as her legs twirled around mine in a river. I open the car door, and she moves to turn the key in the ignition, but something stops her.

"I've missed you, Mark."  
How can she be doing this again? Hell, I didn't want to invite her to Thanksgiving, even, I've been better off away from her, forgetting, these last years, but Meredith fucking Grey insisted… She isn't allowed back into my life, not like this…  
When I say nothing, she speaks again.  
"There were so many times I wanted to see you… I should have just picked up the phone and called…"  
Why didn't you? "I thought you were happy."  
She sighs. "Happy enough." She whispers, and there's something in her voice that makes me turn to face her, my eyes locking with hers.  
They're big and sad, her eyes, like they were that night by the lake, when she first open her arms to me, admitted her marriage was failing… the day she left for LA and hardly came back… but she is and always will be Addison, and she's the one person in the world I can't say no to.

"I always… I thought you didn't want me to call…" I hate the sound of my own voice, right now, "I thought-"  
So her finger on my lips is crossing a line, but right now there's nothing else I can feel.  
"I'm sorry." She whispers, and when I frown, she leans a little closer. "I always thought we'd end up together, you and me. But I ruined everything…"

I remember how she used to look, all long pale limbs and red hair and smiles, and realise the woman in front of me is a shadow of that girl.

So I kiss her, if only to make her stop talking.

I can't tell you how long it lasts, or how far we take it, up against the driver's side window of her car, in the parking lot of the only shop we could find open on Thanksgiving, but it's everything I've been missing these past years. But I know it can't continue.

I pull away slowly, and her eyes are red, and I think she might be half-crying. I shake my head slowly, having realised one thing. I may never be able to get over her, but I can say no to her, for Lexie's sake if not my own.

"I can't do this." I whisper, and it's such a cliché I loathe it the moment it leaves my lips. But she shakes her head slowly, still running her long white fingers over my cheek.  
"I'm sorry." She says again. "I really am, Mark."  
I shake my own head, wishing she'd stop touching me.  
"You'll just leave again, and pretend nothing happened, pretend neither of us felt anything."  
"I won't… not this time…" she's pleading with me.  
"I… I've got a wife and children, Addison."  
She's still shaking her head, and her eyes, almost turquoise with tears, are breaking my heart.  
"Please…" she breathes, and I pull her close to my chest, but I'm still shaking my head. She sobs for a moment, and then she seems to resign herself to it all and pull away, turning the key in the ignition.

The whole exchange is surreal, like I'm watching someone else in my place. I sound desperate, lost, she sounds alone, broken. But I can't let her have what she wants, not here, not now. I've been hurt too many times, and I can't crumble anymore because of her. She's made her choice, more times than most people ever get to, and it's over now. I made my choice, and I choose Lexie and Carrie and Tyler and some form of broken normality, regardless of where my heart really is. She drives back in silence, we enjoy the rest of Thanksgiving as well as we can, trying our hardest not to talk to each other.

She's the last to leave, her little, perfect family, Finn asleep in Noah's arms. She looks as if she's trying not to, but she hugs me for too long, and I breathe in that scent of her one last, long time. I might not see her for years, and for once, that's something I'm almost grateful for. She's taken up half my life, and I've finally realised that I have to move away from her, no matter how much it hurts. She gives me a small, bitter smile, and they leave, and the door swings closed behind them.

But I just can't seem to shut her out.


End file.
